Easy Bake Coven: Book One of the Vivienne Finch Magical Mysteries (2 page)

“I
thought Eunice was one of your best friends? Isn’t she usually your team mate?”

“She
is.” Nora smiled sweetly as she picked up her tray of cookies. “But she gets to
gabbing so much she never pays mind to what she’s counting out and don’t even
get me started on keeping track of cards played.” She paused for a quick
inspection of her appearance in front of the oven glass. “Last week I ended up
with ten deposit slips and some coins in my purse when I made a withdrawal from
my casino fund.” She waved goodbye and disappeared out the front door onto Main
Street.

Vivienne
relished the moment of peaceful quiet in the bakery. The ribbon cutting was
still three days away, but she wasn’t all that worried. It was just going to be
a simple ceremony with the mayor and members of the small business community on
hand to give their support. What could possibly go wrong with that?

Twenty
minutes later, she walked into
Clara’s
Diner
and was greeted by the gentle tinkle of the little brass bell above
the door. The owner, Miss Clara
Bunton
, handed change
to one of the regulars. Like most of the males in the town, his outfit
consisted of a pair of jeans with ragged bottoms, a flannel shirt, and some
sort of hat with the logo of a favorite sports team.

 
Clara, however, was consistently the same no
matter the day. She was a thin woman in her sixties with cheeks that always had
a little too much blush on them and
permed
brown hair
with curls a bit too tight. As usual, she was dressed in a perfectly pressed
pink uniform with a decorative white lace collar. She worked the cash register
by the front door, as she had for the past thirty years, keeping an eye on the
bottom line and the actions of the staff. “Vivienne, I was just thinking about
you today.”

“Hello
Miss Clara.” Vivienne scanned the empty diner booths for Kathy. As was the
normal for any of their planned activities, she kept up her perfect streak of
running five minutes late. “I’m going to need a strong cup of coffee.”

Clara
grabbed a menu from under the counter and set it on the table of a nearby
booth. “Flying solo today?”

“I’m
meeting Kathy here.”

Clara
was joined by Stephanie Bridgeman, the newest waitress who was still learning
the fine art of how to properly wait tables. “The special today is Yankee pot roast.”
Stephanie awkwardly searched her small apron pockets for her order pad and pen
but only seemed to find sugar packets and a crumpled napkin.

“Sounds
delicious, but I’ll just have coffee.” Vivienne smiled at the young girl.
Stephanie was one of the locals who had recently graduated high school but who
couldn’t afford to go to college. Like so many of the farm families in upstate
New York, they were just making ends meet.

“Would
you like cream and sugar?” Stephanie asked, setting several sugar packets on
the table as she continued her search for a pad and pen.

“Please.”
Vivienne winked at Clara. “I have to admit I’m tempted with Miss Clara’s pecan
pie over in the baker’s case.”

Stephanie’s
eyes brightened. “Can I get you a slice?”

“I
deserve a little treat after all my hard work these past few weeks.” Vivienne
reasoned. “Pecan pie is one thing that I’m not going to touch at the bakery. I
could never compete with Miss Clara’s famous recipe.”

“You
get the coffee, Stephanie.” Clara ordered. “I’m going to make sure Vivienne
gets one of the bigger slices.”

“I
really shouldn’t indulge like that.” Vivienne replied. “But mother did say I
should treat myself to something nice today.”

Clara
chuckled in response. “You’re such a sweet girl. It’s hard to believe that Nora
is your mother.”

“Believe
it.” ‘You two are like a pair of magnets.’ Vivienne thought to herself. ‘Flip
them one way they are thick as thieves. Turn them over and they can’t push away
fast enough.’ They were friendly enough in person to each other, but deep down
there was some sort of intense rivalry of who could have the more perfect
version of everything. Clothes, cars, home décor, friends, even garden flower
beds.

The
bell over the door jingled as Kathy entered. As usual, her attention was drawn
to the screen of her smart phone.

“I’ll
go get your pie.” Clara reached down and gave Vivienne’s hands a gentle squeeze
before leaving to supervise Stephanie who seemed to be having trouble working
the double brewer system.

“The
bakery isn’t in flames, so I take it Nora must have left.” Kathy joked as she
slid into the booth. As the owner of the
Trade
Winds Clothier
, she was always stylishly dressed no matter what the
occasion. Her shoulder length blond hair was swept up into an elegant style
that was both business-like and sexy. Her makeup was flawless. Thanks, in no
small part, to the hundred dollar consultations with the experts at the
Nouveau You
salon in town.

Stephanie
slid an enormous slice of pecan pie, in front of Vivienne. “The coffee is
brewing again. It should only be a few minutes.”

“Thanks.”
Vivienne glanced around the table but found no napkin or flatware.

“Can
I get you anything?” Stephanie asked Kathy.

Kathy,
never one to mince words, nodded. “Some napkins and flatware would be a good
start.”

Stephanie
slapped her cheeks in response. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s
okay, sweetie.” Vivienne narrowed her eyes at Kathy. “I’m in no hurry to take
on these empty calories.”

Kathy
glared back at her friend and rolled her blue eyes in response. “I’ll just have
a coffee, black.”

Stephanie
pulled out her order pad from her apron pocket and scribbled.

“Carbohydrates
be damned.” Kathy added. “Give me a piece of the pecan pie too.”

Vivienne
shook her head and smirked. “Bad moods burn calories.”

“Then
I should be able to have the entire pie and not worry about my figure.” Kathy
drummed her fingernails on the vintage red Formica tabletop.

Stephanie
let out a nervous laugh and rushed back to the kitchen area where Clara was
dealing with a coffee grinder that Stephanie had overfilled. The pre-measured
cup to capture the freshly ground beans spilled a cascade of aromatic powder
onto the floor behind the counter. “I’m sorry about that Miss Clara.”

Clara
shook her head at the mess. “I’ll get the broom and dustpan.”

“Geez,
what put you in such a good mood today?” Vivienne asked as the smell of the
pecan pie made her stomach grumble in anticipation.

“Mona
Clarke.” Kathy confided. “She and her sycophants were poking around my store
and pointing out all the flaws in my choice of décor. She practically called it
tacky.”

“The
mayor’s wife said that?”

“The
queen bee said that.” Kathy folded her hands together on the table. “A fitting
title since she’s always buzzing around other people’s business these days.”

“I’ve
never had many encounters with her.” Vivienne offered. “She’s always in such a
hurry whenever we meet.”

“Count
your blessings!” Kathy interrupted. “She and that women’s small business group
can shove their plans where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Whoa!”
Vivienne leaned forward toward her friend. “I have no idea what you’re talking
about.”

“That’s
because you’re not operating as a business yet.” Kathy explained as Clara
walked two mugs of coffee over to the table and set them down along with some
napkins and some flatware. Stephanie followed suit and slid a much smaller
slice of pecan pie in front of Kathy before returning to finish cleaning up the
coffee mess.

“I
will be in three days.” She glanced around for some wood to knock on but found
nothing except polished chrome and vinyl. “Barring any unpleasant surprises,
that is.”

“You
want an unpleasant surprise?” Kathy asked. “Try the Cayuga Cove Women of Small
Business Association on for size.” She took a big sip of coffee. “They have
come up with a proposal to refresh main street stores and shops with a classic
look of yesteryear. New sidewalks and awnings, fancy street lamps and scalloped
facades. Each business will be limited to a simple wooden sign hanging over
each entrance with two simple spot lights for nighttime illumination.”

“I
read something about that in one of their flyers that came in the mail the
other day.” Vivienne recalled. “Didn’t the newspaper have an article explaining
how the state funding fell through recently?”

“It
did.” Kathy continued. “I was all for making Main Street look more appealing to
shoppers, but I can’t afford to front the cost of all those cosmetic changes to
my store. Those simple wooden signs start at seven hundred dollars and go up
from there depending on the color and style of the fonts.”

“I
don’t understand where the problem is.” Vivienne speared the pecan pie with her
fork and took a small bite. “Without state funding, it will be tabled until who
knows when. Problem solved.”

Kathy
wielded her fork like a knight with a sword. “Here’s the real kicker.” She
stabbed a tiny piece of her pecan pie. “This was Mona’s pet project and as the
director of the association she refused to let it go. So right after that
little roadblock, she and a few of her devoted followers started digging
through the town records and now they’re planning on reviving the Historic
Commission to force the changes she wants through antiquated town codes.”

Vivienne
swallowed another sweet bite of pie and washed it down with her coffee. “Can
they really do that? Strong-arm the merchants?”

“I
don’t know for sure, but her group is planning a meeting soon.” Kathy shook her
head. “It sounds like Mona Clarke is getting ready to force our hands to make
the town look the way she envisions it.”

“Having
each of the business owners on Main Street write the checks.” Vivienne finished
the thought. “I certainly won’t be in any sort of financial position to do that
for the first year.”

“You
might not have a choice.” Kathy added as Clara appeared with a coffee carafe.
“Not if you want to continue to do business on Main Street.”

“Are
you two talking about Mona Clarke?” Clara asked.

“Yes.”
Kathy nodded. “Be glad you’re not on Main Street.”

“But
I am only one street away.” Clara added as she refilled Kathy’s mug. “Something
tells me Queen Mona isn’t going to stop with just one street.”

“We’re
assuming that all this is legal.” Vivienne handed her mug to Clara to refill.
“It could take years for anything to get implemented.”

Clara
pointed out the window to the twenty foot tall metal sign that was shaped like
a coffee mug. Framed by a red outline of neon tubing, it had been a beacon for
the late night bar crowd for years. “Jake, God rest his soul, was so proud of
that design. It would break my heart to get rid of it.” Her eyes clouded up for
a few seconds as she thought about her late husband who had passed more than a
decade ago, leaving her as sole owner of the business he had loved so much.

“Jake’s
sign is a part of our history here.” Vivienne agreed. “I’d even go so far to
say that it should be protected with historical status.”

“It’s
not like I’m one of those blasted chains out on the interstate.” Clara topped
off Vivienne’s coffee. “I’m making just enough to keep afloat and pay my bills.
Heaven knows how much a lawyer would cost.”

“Which
I’m sure is what Mona and the others on the commission are probably counting
on. Hoping we all tuck tails between our legs and skulk off.” Kathy savored
another bite of pie, enjoying every second of the decadent treat she rarely
allowed herself.

“That
woman has got some nerve.” Clara added with a scowl. “Do you know that she
actually bought one of my pecan pies here a few weeks ago and was going to
enter it in a baking contest at the State Fair?”

“How
did you find out?” Kathy was intrigued.

“I
was there myself to enter the very same pie.” Clara smiled. “So when I ran into
her at the check in line, she was mortified. Next thing I knew she was saying
how she had a terrible migraine and she slipped away with that pie stashed
under her arm before she could enter it.”

“Are
you sure it was one of yours?” Vivienne asked.

“She
didn’t even have enough sense to take the little heart made out of pecans from
the middle of the pie.” Clara shook her head. It was her own little trademark
that everyone in town knew identified her famous pecan from others. “I never
did like her much. After that incident, she’s never set foot in here again.”

Vivienne
stomach turned a few knots. She wasn’t sure if it was the sugar rush or the
topic of conversation. “All these local politics just makes my head spin.”

“Just
don’t sell her any of your baked goods during fair season.” Clara smiled.

The
tinkle of the door bell startled the three women as a tall man in a deputy’s
uniform ducked inside the doorway. “Good afternoon, ladies.” His voice was low
and smooth, with an accent you couldn’t quite place. “I hear this diner has the
best coffee around.”